


like an ocean hugs the shore

by goodmorningbeloved



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Idiots in Love, M/M, perpetual honeymoon stages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:24:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7259998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorningbeloved/pseuds/goodmorningbeloved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You cannot believe what?” Lafayette says, looking up from their laptop.</p><p>“He <i>fits</i> so nicely,” Alexander practically sobs, hugging a sleeping John Laurens closer to his chest.</p><p>“Okay,” Lafayette says, looking back down to their laptop.</p><p>__</p><p>Or, five times John is a perfect fit, and one time he isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like an ocean hugs the shore

**Author's Note:**

> i thought i was over my honeymoon phase for hamilton. then they performed yorktown and i realized once you're garbage, you're always garbage. emma [niallold](http://niallold.tumblr.com/) was totally the enabler for this fic, even if it's completely different from the scenario i described to her (sweats)
> 
> there are details here you'd recognize if you read "(everyone knows) i'm in over my head," and they're all on purpose bc i have so many headcanons for modern AUs, pleaSE
> 
> lastly, this is unbeta'd!! i'm preeeetty sure i caught all my typos, but let me know if there are any glaring ones!! *clinks glass sadly*
> 
> accompanying playlist for this fic/this AU [here](http://8tracks.com/inredamancy/like-an-ocean-hugs-the-shore)

i.

“I can’t believe this,” Alexander moans, sounding very pitiful.

“Here we go,” Mulligan says. He’s looking at the ceiling with such vigilance and resolution that anyone would wonder if he’s searching for a higher being. Sometimes he really is. For example, when John and Alexander first started dating and Alexander actually _shed tears_ , Mulligan prayed that whatever higher entity lived in the loftiness of clouds would do him a favor and smite him. 

On a pain scale of one to ten, this situation is only about a two so far. The aforementioned incident, which Mulligan has privately dubbed Day Zero, was an eight, and Mulligan comforts himself with the fact that literally nothing on this plain Tuesday afternoon can possibly top Alexander Hamilton crying over spilled milk in the middle of a busy street.

“You cannot believe what?” Lafayette says, looking up from their laptop.

“He _fits_ so nicely _,_ ” Alexander practically sobs, hugging a sleeping John Laurens closer to his chest.

“Okay,” Lafayette says, looking back down to their laptop.

This is normal. Actually, the instance of Alexander Hamilton _not_ being caught up in next week’s assignments, drowning in coffee, or being passed out on the couch after one too many all-nighters, is abnormal itself, but now that it happens practically every Tuesday, instigated by the presence of John Laurens, it has, unfortunately, earned its spot among the Alexander Hamilton Schedule, otherwise known as Mulligan’s working theory that dictates the following: On every day that ends with a “y,” Hamilton will try to verbally obliterate Thomas Jefferson, and on every Tuesday, Hamilton will abandon all other obligations in favor of John Laurens.

At this point, Mulligan thinks he should patent it because even other students are catching on. They’ve started learning not to come to the fourth floor study room of the honors residence hall between the hours of three to five o’clock because Alexander, for all the _shush_ ing and _be quiet_ ing he does when _he’s_ the one studying, unsurprisingly cannot shut up when it comes to John. Luckily, Mulligan usually brings his earphones to study, and Lafayette has built up a truly enviable tolerance to the couple.

Unfortunately, today, Mulligan’s earphones are lying somewhere in his and Alexander’s dorm, lost. This means that whenever Alexander sighs something into John’s hair, Mulligan hears it and has to force himself to keep annotating his novel.

They take up less than a fraction of the room, really. They take turns with the two bean bag chairs that their RA had generously gifted their class on their freshman year, so this time Lafayette is nestled snugly into the red-apple chair and Mulligan is trying to sink into the green-bean-green chair. John initially crawled under one of the three-sided counters to filter out any form of light, which has since led to Alexander wedging himself in the tight space with his boyfriend.

Mulligan eyes them critically — Alexander furthest in, knees propped up, and John slotted neatly between his legs. Mulligan knows they’re practically the same height, but John is slumped down enough that Alexander can rest his chin above his head. Meanwhile John’s been asleep since the first five minutes they arrived, apparently oblivious to Alexander’s arms wound around his middle—or, with the way he seems to contently lean back into Alexander’s hold, comfortable because of them.

Mulligan decides that this is a solid three out of ten, after all.

It must be a whole ten minutes before he hears Alexander sigh a soft _love you_. When Mulligan finally dares to look up from his book, he sees Alexander nestling his cheek atop John’s curls, eyes fluttering shut. He’s never seen Alexander fall asleep so fast.

A four, then.

 

 

 

ii.

Alexander Hamilton is a menace of physical contact and frequent unintentional violator of personal space, whether it’s lodging himself firmly (or, two inches away from) in his debate opponent’s face or throwing himself bodily over Mulligan’s legs as he impugns Jefferson’s latest misdeed.

John, really, has never been any different. Before they absorbed Alexander into their friend group, John was the reigning menace, and the biggest problem Mulligan had was that whenever they had movie nights, John usually positioned himself in a way that tangled his, Mulligan, and Lafayette’s legs hopelessly, to the point where Mulligan couldn’t reach the remote to fast-forward through a sex scene and save themselves from John going into commentary about how difficult that position would be to draw. (“Not that I frown upon it, but _why_ are you drawing sex positions?” Lafayette once asked, to which John shrugged and answered, “Anatomy practice.”)

When Alexander became Mulligan’s new roommate and just as quickly the new member of their friend group, John Laurens was dethroned as Alexander blurred into their lives and settled in the spaces that they never thought existed.

For a time, Alexander and John’s second natures as affection-happy human octopi enabled one another. There were four nightmarish months in which Mulligan was forced to endure _all_ sex scenes and subsequent commentaries, as there was suddenly another body crammed into the couch with them.

When John and Alexander eventually surprised no one and announced their relationship, Mulligan hoped they might attach even closer by the hip—so close that they wouldn’t be able to reach him in their relentless search for physical contact. They did, truly, become even more attached, to the point where it became more apt to call them JohnandAlex and AlexandJohn. This did not, unfortunately, take away from their physical contact with other people. Neither were afraid to continue draping themselves over other people or occasionally dropping big kisses on Mulligan or Lafayette’s cheek — it only meant that one held the other a little tighter later on.

In short, Mulligan just really can’t win.

“I think I planned too much,” Lafayette says, sounding dazed. They’re standing in front of the mirror, which usually means they’re dazed from admiring themselves (for good reason, Mulligan thinks), but the reason today is the prospect of spending several hours together with one George Washington.

“Laf,” Alexander says, lazing on the floor of said subject’s apartment floor, pillowed by John’s stomach and foot-rested by Mulligan’s thigh, “you’re absolutely right. He’s going to hate you.”

John smacks him lightly with the folded paperback in his hand. “Alex,” he says, “is being a very supportive friend, just like your two other supportive friends, and thinks that since you’ve practically been Washington’s favorite all year, this will be a piece of cake.”

Mulligan is indeed trying very hard to be supportive, despite that Lafayette’s departure will bring about his slow death with the remaining couple. He clicks the television’s volume down a few notches to comment, “Man, I’ve never seen you this nervous.”

“We’re going to talk about my _paper_ ,” Lafayette says. “How do I make a _paper_ make me appealing.”

“Use lots of adjectives,” Mulligan tells them. He gets a kick in the shin for his efforts.

“I didn’t mean what I said!” Alexander chimes, throwing his arms up and making vague gestures to Lafayette. “You two are cute, even if he’s my academic advisor and I thought I was his favorite and you’re not even in his class and there’s technically no way you should be his favorite. I think you should go for it.”

“Second cutest couple I’d know,” John agrees, flipping a page.

Alexander gasps, half rolling over with an eye-crinkling, sun-shaming, utterly _adoring_ smile on his face. “And us?”

“Third,” John says.

Alexander’s face _crumbles_ and he rolls the other way, huffing a loud, “Well, _fine_ ,” to John’s ankles.

“Please don’t leave me,” Mulligan says.

“I’m leaving,” Lafayette says. “On the chance I don’t come back alone, please be not here anymore by five.”

“But Alex,” John coos, putting his book aside and reaching over to comfort Alexander’s withered form, “you’re _my_ favorite—“

“Do _not_ touch the kitchen. _Et pour l'amour de Dieu_ , lock the door when you leave.”

With a click, Lafayette is out of the door, John has somehow ended up straddling Alexander’s legs, and Mulligan is trying to focus on the television.

“Hm,” Alexander says, placing his hands flat on John’s thighs. “Okay, you fit very prettily up there. I forgive you.”

“ _Prettily_ ,” John snorts, but bends down to kiss the tip of Alexander’s nose anyway, grinning when Alexander puts his hands in his hair and fluffs his curls around.

“I’m going to go too,” Mulligan decides, standing. He doesn’t bother to turn the television off — primarily because he’s afraid of what else he’ll hear before he can make it to the door. This is a strong five out of ten, bordering on six, and usually once it crosses the halfway point, he knows he has to book it.

“See ya,” John says, reaching out and patting his calf as a form of goodbye. 

“Do _not_ touch Laf’s kitchen,” Mulligan reiterates.

“ _Never gonna leave this bed_ ,” Alexander sings happily, catching John’s hand and folding their fingers together. Of course, those fit too.

“Never, until five o’clock,” John says emphatically.

This elicits a sigh, a dramatic nod from Alexander, who shakes their joined hands at the sky—or the ceiling. “Never, until five o’clock.”

Mulligan doesn’t plan to stay another second.

 

 

 

iii.

Aaron Burr meets him in front of John’s dorm, and the sight of him confuses Mulligan until he remembers that, ah, right, he and John are room mates, so technically this is his dorm too. 

“Are you here for Laurens?” Burr asks.

“Yeah,” Mulligan replies. “He not here?”

“Oh, he is.” Burr then casts a rather hateful stare at the door, so Mulligan assumes Alexander is on the other side of it.

He opens the door without further ado — it’s probably best that they get over this quickly — and steps inside at Burr’s silent behest.

It’s John inside, and he’s shirtless. The shirtlessness makes him wonder, but thank God, it’s _just_ John.

“Hey,” he says, in the middle of rummaging through a drawer. “D’you need something?”

“Laf wants to meet at 200 Degrees. I think they're having some sort of meltdown about graduation,” Mulligan tells him.

“Good, Alex can buy the coffee he’ll owe me when Laf tells us that they banned their cap design,” John says happily. He’s found and pulled on a gray hoodie when he spots Burr inching cautiously into the room. His eyebrows knit downwards, an expression of confusion. “Were you trying to come in earlier?”

“John, your toothpaste is _disgusting_ ,” says Alexander, effectively interrupting them when ambles out of the small bathroom. _Of course_ he’s here after all. He’s wearing a different shirt from the one he’s worn for the past two days, thankfully, and his hair looks newly washed, loose around his ears. John’s convincing probably finally won him over.

“That toothpaste,” John says defensively, “cleans the mouth that you kiss, Hamilton.”

Alexander feigns a wounded look at the formal address and is on his way to do something, probably kiss John, when he spots Burr and he looks caught off-guard. “Aaron Burr,” he says, not unpleasantly, and promptly resumes his trek towards John.

Then his eyes actually land on John and _see_ him for the first time, and Alexander stops dead in his tracks.

Mulligan rubs his temple in the silence that ensues.

Burr, undoubtedly unschooled in the art of witnessing John and Alexander, breaks the silence by answering John’s earlier question: “Yes, I was waiting.” His eyes flickered somewhat disapprovingly at Alexander, who has been spurred into movement again — in other words, taking two dramatic steps towards John and then slumping down to the floor next to him. "But it didn’t sound like the right time.”

“Oh,” John says, “you mean when Alex was combing my hair?” at the same time Alexander throws his arms around his shoulders and _wails_ , “That looks so good on you, this is _ridiculous_. Not even my own clothes are safe.” They almost topple to the floor together as Alexander continues mumbling praises in Spanish into John’s shoulder. It’s a bit odd, Mulligan thinks, because Alexander usually reigns in his affection around the likes of Burr, Jefferson, and Madison, but maybe he has underestimated the power of the sight of John Laurens.

“I don’t care what was happening,” Burr huffs. “ _Someone_ was moaning. I thought we made a deal about having people over.”

John rolls his eyes even though he’s patting Alexander’s back as Alexander lapses now into French. “That’s the most assertive I’ve heard you all semester.”

Mulligan laughs, which earns him a flat stare from Burr. Alexander cackles and pats John’s cheek appreciatively before resuming in Spanish again. 

Mulligan decides now is a good time to remind them, “Coffee, Lafayette, possible meltdown, come on,” and taps the door.

Burr gives him a small, grateful smile — Mulligan doesn’t know how to feel about that — as John and Alexander finally stand. Actually, John stands and sort of pulls Alexander up with him, while Alexander clings stubbornly. Mulligan pointedly gestures to the door, waits there until they’ve hobbled out ahead of him to prevent them from loitering any longer. 

“Is that what he’s normally like?” Burr asks when they’re out of the door.

Mulligan purses his lip, wonders what a Good Friend would say. “Nah, he can be a lot worse.”

“At least my habits are consistent enough for me to _have_ a ‘normal’ behavior, Burr!” comes the snappish reply from the hall.

Mulligan’s last glimpse of Burr is of his resigned face as he drops his bag onto his bed.

“I didn’t know I left some of my clothes in your room,” Alexander is confiding to John when Mulligan joins them. This is a ridiculous statement, because even the nurse’s office must have at least a forgotten pair of Alexander’s socks. “Hold on. _Has Aaron Burr ever accidentally worn my clothes?”_

“Ew, _no_ , I don’t even want to think about that,” John says, blanching. “Your clothes are only allowed to be on you or on the floor.”

Alexander _beams_ and slings an easy arm around his boyfriend’s waist. Mulligan, walking behind them, studies the very particular way Alexander’s hand impresses upon the slightly oversized sweater, fingers hooked soundly around the subtle curve of John’s waist. “In that case, sunshine, you’re keeping the sweater. And maybe, like, two other ones. Did I tell you, I found this red one under my bed that I completely forgot I ev—“

“Alexander, I am _not_ transferring half of your closet into mine, especially if it’s coming from under your bed—“

“But, _John_ , they’d fit you so well—“

They bicker, nothing new, wrapped up in each other to the point where Mulligan has to yank them back before crossing the street too quickly. It might be annoying, but Mulligan knows them, knows that John’s shoulders have never looked this light and Alexander has never looked this comfortable in his own skin and that the feeling in their eyes is real, real, real.

When they arrive at the coffee shop, Mulligan makes Alexander buy him a coffee too, on the account of his new seven out of ten.

 

 

 

iv.

“Goodbye, rug,” Alexander says to the rug. “Goodbye, lamp. Goodbye, light switch.”

“You could have referenced The Breakfast Club,” Mulligan says as they stare at their now-empty dorm, “or Dead Poets Society or Harry Potter, and instead you choose one of the most depressing movies.”

“Are you saying Dead Poets wasn’t depressing?” Alexander turns to him somberly. “Goodbye, Mulligan.”

“You and John literally rented an apartment two blocks away from me—“

“That’s not true, I strongly suggested it and John’s interests happened to overlap.”

“When do they not?”

Alexander’s gaze suddenly turns shifty, and he fiddles with the little stuffed turtle in his hands.

Mulligan _has_ lived with him for a year. “What is it.”

“I,” Alexander says haltingly, “think I want to marry John?”

This feels like it would have been an opportune time for a spit take, but alas, Mulligan isn’t drinking anything, and the hinges on the doorway make it look dangerous for him to knock his forehead against it. He’s not surprised, not really, but proud and happy and something else fuzzy that comprise the pleasant feeling in his gut. He says eloquently, “Oh. So you’re not sure?”

Alexander makes a confused noise and fumbles with something in his bag, almost dropping the turtle. “Well, I bought this the other day and—“

A glimpse of the black velvet box later, Mulligan says incredulously, “You weren’t sure if you wanted to marry someone, so you _bought the ring already_?”

“I panicked!” Alexander yelps. “I saw it online and I was thinking about how nice it would look on John’s hands, he’s got the nicest hands, and then I _realized_ —I want to _marry_ him. Maybe not, like, right at this moment but definitely someday, I— God, Mulligan, I want to carry him over a threshold and learn how to cook pancakes for him and I love him?”

“Why,” Mulligan demands, placing both hands on Alexander’s shoulders to shake him, “is everything that’s coming out of your mouth sounding like a question?”

“Because I don’t know what he’d think!” Alexander laments. “What if it’s too fast? Wh—“

“Alexander, you spent an entire week picking out an apartment with him before one of you even formally asked the other to live with them—“

“—he wants to see if he can do something with his art, what if he has other plans—“

“You haven’t even asked him!”

“—and what if he’s not as serious about us or—“

“Hamilton, say that again and I will _end you_.”

Alexander clamps his mouth shut immediately; the self-imposed silence lasts for all of three seconds before he’s bubbling out uncontrollably, “It’s a realistic concern!”

“For other people, but for you, you _idiot_ , it’s ridiculous, because you _know_ how he looks at you.”

Alexander looks down at the black box, distress etched in every crook of his expression — but he’s beginning to soften, Mulligan can see. “Like how?”

Mulligan would like that smiting to happen any second now, please. “Like you’re the sun.”

Alexander’s eyes flick up, flick over his face, searching. “But I call _him_ sunshine.”

Mulligan _looks_ at him.

“Okay,” Alexander says, looking down at the two items in his hands. “Maybe you have a few valid points.” He sighs, but he’s starting to sound normal again, so Mulligan thinks they’ve made some progress. "I'll talk to him. Subtly. Don't tell him anything, okay? You're the only one who knows."

Mulligan doesn't even dignify this possibility of him spilling the beans with a response. “I’d also say not to tell Lafayette until it’s all official, or they might get too excited about the wedding.”

Alexander absolutely flushes pink, and his eyes look faraway when he laughs a little breathlessly, “Wedding, yeah.”

Mulligan grins and claps him on the shoulder. This was a solid nine out of ten; he'd have to save the ten for the proposal, probably. He had no doubt that the actual wedding would be a fifteen— “It’s too late to give you the shovel talk now…” It’s at this moment that he sees John Laurens appear at the end of the hall behind Alexander. “…which is great, because maybe that talk with Laurens can begin instead.”

“A-lex-an-der!” John shouts in drawn-out syllables, barely giving Alexander enough time to feel shock _and_ struggle to shove the box into his bag. Mulligan is ready to place himself bodily in front of Alexander to help the poor man, but luckily he gets the box hidden with enough time to turn around and meet a John-shaped person throwing themselves at him. “We’re _graduating_!”

Alexander throws his arms around him with equal enthusiasm, the stuffed turtled clenched in his fist almost as fiercely as he appears to be holding John. “I know, and I have _the_ greatest present ever for you.”

John grins as he pulls back, his arms loose around Alexander’s hips. “Burr and I just literally had this conversation ten minutes ago,” he laughs. “He got me a book about turtles as a graduation present. Apparently everyone thinks I’m obsessed with turtles?”

“What?” Alexander says with a laugh, still holding the turtle plushie hidden behind John’s head. “Ridiculous.”

“I know.” John’s smile tempers to something more shy, and he ducks his head slightly when he teases, “Well, where’s my present?”

“Close your eyes,” Alexander says.

John, ever trusting, closes his eyes without hesitation.

Alexander leans in, tosses the turtle plush backwards, and kisses him instead.

Mulligan, who ends up catching the turtle, approves of this decision.

“Hmm,” John hums when he pulls away, smile unwavering. “Where’s the gift receipt?”

“Stop hurting my _feelings,_ ” Alexander says, merciless as he dances his fingers lightly along the back of John’s neck. John crumples against him with a half-shout, half-laugh of, “Okay, okay!”

“I love you,” Alexander says. It’s honest because the rest of him says it too.

“And I love you,” John says without missing a beat. He cracks another smile when he adds, “But I didn’t know graduation presents were a proper tradition, so I didn’t get you anything?”

Alexander frowns, poking his cheek accusingly. “Unacceptable, unadmissible, unforgivable,” he declares. 

“Inadmissible,” John corrects him fondly.

“See, now you’ll have to, like, hold my hand twice as long. Since yours fits so nicely with mine.”

“I'll do my best."

It’s only when John steps back with his hand laced in Alexander’s that he seems to finally notice Mulligan. “Is that a turtle?” he asks, puzzled and beginning to frown in Grave Disappointment.

Mulligan doesn’t miss the way Alexander’s previously besotted expression morphs into one of horror.

And so, because Mulligan loves his friends, he holds the turtle out to John and says, “Yeah, it’s my grad present for you.”

 

 

 

v.

Alexander curses the sky when he remembers that they’re seated alphabetically. John peppers his cheek with enough kisses to leave him dazed before breaking off with Mulligan and Lafayette, heading towards the general area of their seats.

When they call Alexander’s name, he walks with an air of brightness that isn’t all just because of the diploma in his hand. He pauses in the middle of the stage where the photographer snaps a picture, and he raises his hand with his thumb, pointer, and little finger held up—a gesture that says _love_ , a gesture that he sends in Mulligan’s general direction, a gesture that Mulligan knows is received and reciprocated by one John Laurens sitting somewhere behind him.

When he walks onstage, he lifts his diploma above his head and shouts something unintelligible but celebratory, and the crowd shouts with him in agreement.

When it’s Lafayette’s turn, Mulligan shouts their full name along with the announcer. The crowd around him ripples, laughs. Lafayette, grinning widely, turns and tilts their head back pointedly so that their decorated cap can tell their fellow students, _I wined a lot but I did it!_ Mulligan spots Washington sitting in the opposite crowd of faculty, chuckling.

John receives his diploma and raises an invisible glass in toast. Mulligan and a few others raise their hands, holding invisible glasses too — among them, he sees Alexander’s.

At the end of it all, they’re one of the last few to trickle out of the auditorium. Mulligan shakes his diploma at the sky one more time — hey, he’s worked four years for this — and says, “I got my piece of paper!”

“I’m going to go find someone,” Lafayette announces.

“ _Ooh,_ ” John whistles, and Alexander crows, “Go, man, go!” Not that Lafayette needs the additional encouragement; they’re waving one last time, calling promises about an after party, and disappears through a set of doors.

“Is this the right time to say that I’m kind of terrified?” John says.

“It’s probably the perfect time,” Mulligan tells him.

“Good, ‘cause we’re going to be…out there. Like, in the _real world_.”

“Yup,” Alexander says. “All this before — it was just the fake world.”

John punches him in the side light-heartedly. “You know what I mean.”

Alexander smiles and tugs him over so that he can cup his cheek with one hand. “I do,” he says, “and I’m telling you that you’re going to be fine, because you’ll have me.”

“Don’t think this’ll get you out of doing the laundry on our first week in the apartment,” John says.

“Cheeky.” Alexander pinches him, playful, and then makes a big show of kissing that spot on his cheek. “You’ll be out there, and I’ll be right by your side. See," he puts an arm around John, tucks him close to his side, "like this."

“Since I fit so nicely?” John ventures.

Alexander grins. “Since you fit so nicely.”

“Well, what the hell am I,” Mulligan says, “canned sardines?”

They both chorus a “ _No!”_ before they’re upon him, and Mulligan regrets his wit as he’s inundated with the combined force of their physical affection.

 

 

 

+i.

“Everyone, I have an announcement to make,” Alexander says to all nine of their guests, crowded in their relatively tiny living room in their relatively tiny apartment. Mulligan puts down his mug — full of beer, since John insists on boycotting plastic products — to listen to watch Alexander trying to tap his finger against his own mug to create a clinking sound. “Right, first off, John and I w— John? Where’s John?”

Their bathroom door opens and John comes out, in the middle of pulling his hair back into a ponytail. “What’s happening?” he asks when he realizes that people are staring at him.

“Baby, I told you I was going to make an announcement—“

John grins, and Mulligan claps him on the shoulder as he passes on his way to join Alexander.

“John and I wanted to thank you all for coming. Also, thank you all for making sure that young Peggy here is safe from underage drinking.”

Peggy Schuyler, sandwiched between her sisters, flips him off, but lovingly.

“Thank you all for not commenting on the very disjointed state of our furniture’s color scheme, even though we’ve had, what, a year now to get it together,” Alexander continues. “I keep trying to tell John that the rug’s shade of green is different from the sofa’s shade of green, but he will just not listen.”

“This is because I’m the one who drives every time we make the two-hour trip to IKEA, not him,” John says.

“Shush.” Alexander brushes his finger against John’s lips, but they’re both grinning now.

Lovesick, they are, Mulligan thinks. They don’t look much different from the first few moments they met: bright-eyed, bound by some gravitational force that keeps them in each other’s orbits. Both of their hair has grown a little bit longer — Mulligan did not fail to notice the jar labeled “hair tie jar” on their end table. They both look good, healthy. Happy.

“Now I’m going to go off-script,” Alexander says, and Mulligan assumes from John’s fond eye roll that there wasn’t really a script to begin with. “When I first asked out John Laurens, I _cried_ because I spilled the latte I bought for him, which had I convinced the barista to decorate with a heart using foam — _stop laughing_ , you’re all supposed to be my friends — but I think I was also still a little, y’know, in shock that this _angel_ had deigned to let me, a _plebeian_ , even hold his hand. He even laughs at my jokes.”

“Alex,” Mulligan hears John murmur. He’s blushing, obviously caught off-guard.

Alexander pauses only to set his mug down and smile at him. “After Lafayette gave me the shovel talk, they told me they approved, because maybe then we could finally look after each other. You know, since we were dating, we’d actually remember to go out and eat, we’d sleep together — I mean literally sleep together, people, gosh — and we’d stop each other from fighting other so much. Well. Laf, we love you, but one of John’s best qualities is his simultaneous capability to hold my reading glasses before a fight and to buy me those little bandaids with stars on them so that afterwards, he could clean up my mess and say something cheesy like, _Alexander, you’re_ my _star_ , or something.”

“ _One time_ ,” John says. 

“John Laurens, I love you,” Alexander continues resolutely, “even if we were held up at IKEA an hour longer because, as much as you refute your obsession with certain shelled creatures, you were convinced that they had turtle-print shower curtains. I love you, even if you refuse to buy a different toothpaste, even if you like boiled eggs like a _heathen_ , even if I have to drink beer from a coffee mug for the rest of my life—because I used to only think this, but now I _know_.”

He’s taking out the small black box when Eliza Schuyler whispers something to her sisters that sounds like a mantra of, “It’s happening it’s happening it’s happening.” Mulligan emphathizes with her; he thinks this is going to be  _the_ ten out of ten.

“I _know_ I want all of that. I want to live with you, I want to be with you, I want _you_. And I know that you’re planning to do your own amazing things because I would be with you every step of the way, but I’ve also wanted to marry you since I first held your hand.” 

Mulligan doesn’t bother to reign in his proud grin when Alexander finally sinks down to one knee, velvet box popped open and held out to a very stunned looking John.

“So,” Alexander says, voice gentle, revering, “you think you can fit a wedding into your schedule for me?”

John’s lips are parted but he looks nowhere near capable of mustering words. He holds out his hand, and Alexander’s face _shines_ as he takes the cue to wiggle the ring out of its holder. The room is silent as John helps Alexander slip the ring onto his hand, and then—

“Alex,” John says, voice cracking, “it doesn’t _fit_.”

Mulligan feels his  _own_ heart plummet. Okay, maybe this is an eleven— or a hundred-eleven—

“ _What?_ ” Alexander is on his feet in record time, the empty box clattering to the floor as he grips John’s hand in both of his. “That’s impossible, I measured your finger while you were sleeping so it was an exact—“

He stops suddenly, and then John’s face is splitting into a grin as he holds up his hand slowly. The ring, a simple gold band that catches in the light, sits snugly on his ring finger. “Just kidding.”

“I hate you,” Alexander says before he’s taking John into his arms and pressing their lips together in a kiss. 

The others in the room erupt into cheers almost instantly, and Mulligan thinks they must all miss the gentle hand splayed over the small of John’s back, supportive, the carefulness with which Alexander cups John’s cheek, the smile hidden into the kiss—these quiet things that declare, over and over, _I love you, I love you._

John and Alexander pull away at the same time, but Mulligan also doesn’t miss the split-second look that they share before they turn to their cheering guests—one that says, _I know, I know._

**Author's Note:**

> eeeeeeeEEEE!!!!
> 
> 1) alexander sings "never gonna leave this bed," by maroon 5. amazing song, it's in the domestic lams playlist n i cry everytime it comes on  
> 2) the title is a modified lyric from "sway" by dean martin which is also, surprise, on that same playlist  
> 3) laf's grad cap was taken from one of my own friends' cap designs this year lmao  
> 4) _Et pour l'amour de Dieu_ is "for the love of God," although the sources i consulted say that this isn't really typically used in france (weep)  
>  5) alexander references the movie "room," which is a GREAT movie


End file.
